


and i am afraid of all that i’ve built

by twnpeaks



Category: Space Force (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Eventual Romance, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Single Parent F. Tony Scarapiducci, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-19
Updated: 2021-02-01
Packaged: 2021-03-17 07:33:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,129
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28845375
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twnpeaks/pseuds/twnpeaks
Summary: Tony is a single dad. He's trying his best on his own, but it doesn't get any easier. If anything, accepting this job for Space Force has made his life harder, and raising an 8 year old boy even trickier. Tony’s next great parenting challenge: the third grade science fair. Luckily, there’s a certain scientist that isn’t opposed to lending a hand, and maybe eventually holding a hand…
Relationships: Angela Ali & Chan Kaifang, Angela Ali & Chan Kaifang & F. Tony Scarapiducci, Chan Kaifang/F. Tony Scarapiducci, Mark R. Naird & F. Tony Scarapiducci
Comments: 7
Kudos: 14





	1. i have made mistakes, i continue to make them

**Author's Note:**

> as a warning, i barely gave this a look over so it isn't edited. i'm so sorry... also chan doesn't appear till chapter 2, more apologies. stream i have made mistakes by the oh hellos.

Mornings are Tony’s least favorite part of the day. He’s not a morning person by any means, and even now decades down the road he isn’t taking this mother’s advice to plan everything out the night before. Instead he’s squinting his eyes, adjusting to the dim light of his closet as he pulls out the first suit his hand falls on. The fabric is cold, but it wakes him up immediately as he presses it closer to himself, just gently enough so it doesn’t wrinkle, but tight enough so he doesn’t drop any piece. 

But him not being a morning person and the cold of the floors and fabrics isn’t what makes him hate this part of the day. It’s not even the fact that his phone is telling him it’s 5:19 am. The sun isn’t even on the horizon, and normally of course that’d bother him. He would’ve groaned and complained to any open ear all about how he thought no one should be up before the sun, but that was neither here nor there anymore. It was always just a stream of thoughts in his head, no one to share it with, and no one to really blame other than himself. 

After all, Tony was the one who decided to settle in Colorado Springs, a whole two hours away from Wild Horse and the Space Force base in the middle of nowhere. The city of course came with its perks, and it was always more of his speed, but that didn’t make the two hour work commute any easier. He was sure his coworkers and colleagues were all lounging in their extra half hours of sleep in their middle of nowhere homes, while he was here, worrying about school districts and babysitters. 

He drops the hanger and suit on his bed, swearing to himself that if he’s now wrinkled it that he might just call in sick to work. 

In the darkness, he stumbles around his room. The light switch should be somewhere along this wall, he thinks, hand gliding against the wall as he walks. When his hand doesn’t find it, he spins on his heel to turn back around, shoulder colliding with the doorframe to his room. 

“FUCK!” 

He grabs the throbbing arm, leaning against the wall, but he finds what he was originally looking for in a less than gentle way as the plastic light switch jabs at the already hurt arm.

“You have to be FUCKING kidding me.” He moves away from the wall, both hands clenched into fists as he tries to shake it all off. The palm of his uninjured arm slaps over his mouth. It shifts into a cupped shape when he finally starts taking deep breaths. It doesn’t occur to him that he’s yelling out profanities at this early hour with walls that are frustratingly thin. He can only focus on shit morning this is turning out to be.

But hey, at least he’s awake now.

Once the lights are finally flicked on, Tony can dig through drawers and pull a tie that matches the suit he blindly picked earlier. It’s nothing too special, just a gray ensemble. His tie collection is a different story. He honestly doesn’t care for owning that many, but he’s also indecisive, and at least a third of them are gifts. In his frenzy, he picks one of the gift ties, which at first glance it’s just a dark blue tie, with a lighter blue-gray pattern on it. His thumb runs over the pattern a couple times until the little speckles actually come into focus— whales. It’s one of the many gifts he got for Hanukkah. 

The tie is placed beside the suit, and it all waits. While clothes are the first thing he deals with, getting dressed is one of the last things. He’s learned enough times to hold off and not risk the chance his suits will become a casualty of his morning routine. As for the oversized gray tee and the pajama pants he’s currently in, he couldn’t care less. 

The hallway, luckily, is a clear path to the kitchen. In there Tony knows where the light switch is. It’s injury free from there on out. 

The kitchen is considerably clean, other than the assortment of fallen snack boxes or backpack on the counter and the towers of cups in the sink. It’s not morning Tony’s problem though. 

Morning Tony has a hand shoved into a box of granola bars, looking for the chocolate chip flavor. Morning Tony is scooping pretzels out of a giant bag into a small bright green container. Morning Tony is pulling open the fridge door with his foot, scanning the contents over and over again till he finally sees the little deli rolls. Everything is packed into a tupperware box, and tucked into the backpack. That is morning Tony’s only concern. 

The counter is cold and smooth under his arms. He’s drawing out this moment as much as he can, even though he knows he’s running a little behind today. The oven timer reads 9:39 and there’s a split second before Tony remembers it’s been broken for ages that he thinks he’s going to have a heart attack. 

The minute is right though. He’s running late. 

He walks, expecting to pull the mug from the tray of the coffee maker and be met with coffee. It would be the case if he had actually made the coffee, but no. That must’ve just been a day dream. At least he can scramble a little time while it brews to brush his teeth and get dressed, and of course, wake up Micah. 

Some mornings, he leans against the boy’s door frame. He draws it out and stares as the slow passing of time on his phone. Unfortunately, today isn’t one of those mornings. 

Tony plops himself down on the bed, a surprise awakening for Micah. 

What first begins as a “hmmm canmm pllllease” evolves into a “five more minutes please.” However, Tony can’t afford his tired eyed antling the luxury. 

“Sorry kiddo. Not today. Dad’s running late already and he’s so sorry, but he has to get you up-and-at-em.” 

Micah’s eyes open to colorful blurs and in his eyes Tony’s dancing like a headless chicken. When his eyes adjust, he comes to the same conclusion.

“To Tara’s?” 

“To Tara’s. Like always. But you like Tara’s right? She what- gives you chocolate contraband? Bribes you into good reviews?” He jokes, but he couldn’t be more thankful they get along. Tony wouldn’t be able to do just about anything he does without her help. 

At the beginning Tony did try to be everywhere at once. He broke some speed limits, called in as many sick days as he could, and pulled Micah out of school at least once a week. It ended up with a nasty meeting at Micah’s school, with Naird, and with him actually sick. 

Tara, one of the moms, and a nurse, came to their rescue. Her sleep schedule is all sorts of crazy, but it works for Tony and Micah, and Tara’s own third grader, Imran, so it is what it is. With ease, she eventually fits into their daily routine. Now, every morning, Tony drops Micah off and she makes sure he gets to school.

“Mhm.” There’s a small nod, a smile, and wild curls that go flopping with it. 

Tony gasps, “You’re spoiled rotten. Absolutely rotten. We’re gonna have to get you checked for cavities.” 

Micah laughs— his dad’s theatrics never fail to make him laugh. “I hate the dentist.”

“What about dentist dad? Dad dentist? Do you hate dad dentist?” Dad dentist, not a real dentist by any means, still assumes the role of one, “Let’s see ‘em teeth.” 

Micah first bears his teeth in a wide grin but then opens his mouth. Tony squints, getting closer to the kid’s face. 

“Oh god.” Tony frowns, practically gasps and it sends poor half asleep Micah into a sliver of a panic. 

“What?”

“Your breath stinks,” He laughs. Micah doesn’t laugh. 

“The science fair is next Friday. You’re still coming to that right?”

“The science fair! The fair of science where you present all those projects! Of course, I’m gonna fuckin’ ffff— be there. Who do you think I am?”

“My dad who works a lot.” A small comment, by a small child, but it carries weight for Tony.

“OUCH.” His hand flies over to his heart and he lays on top of him, gently squishing Micah under the covers. “You might have a point,” Tony eventually admits. He’s a little hurt that Micah’s very aware of the fact work gets in the way of so much. He promised him it wouldn’t when they first moved, but he’s missed conferences and back to school nights and even the mornings aren’t what either of them expected. He gets off of Micah and stands, hands resting on his hips— a mother hen stance as Micah calls it. “Now if that point could get out of bed and get on his way to the bathroom then his dad can actually go work a lot. Sound like a plan?”

He doesn’t get a response, just a grumble but the blanket is moved anyways and Micah swings his legs to do a small hop out of bed. 

“Come on, come on, come on,” Tony ushers rapidly, 

Micah’s still relatively sleepy, but Tony’s leading him by the shoulders, with wide side to side steps, to the bathroom. 

Other than that, it’s a relatively quiet morning. Both of them desperately want to sleep and that drowsy feeling is stronger than just about any ramble that Tony or Micah might want to go on. 

Micah stumbles, toothbrush hanging out of his mouth. In his tired state, he keeps trying to balance on one foot, switching every now and then and almost completely toppling over. Luckily, Tony is right behind him. Micah’s feet are cold against the bathroom floor. Tony’s already had time to put on socks, something he figures he probably should start doing with Micah before they do anything in the mornings. 

The sock drawer is all the way back in Micah’s room and in complete disarray, Tony remembers. He’ll be searching for a while, in the dark, while the poor kid is stumbling around in the bathroom. Tony probably should consider getting one of those bathroom carpets or mats, it hadn’t occurred to him before the winter chill really started settling in. That and the heat was usually running all through the night- the heat. 

The heater wasn’t running. Why isn’t the heater running? Tony spits out the toothpaste, letting his toothbrush fall into the sink as he rushes towards the thermostat. He hopes he just forgot to turn it on. Please let it be that. 

The little button is squarely on 70°.

“You have to be fucking kidding me. Fucking fuck piece of shhhh-“ Micah’s head pops out from the bathroom, eyes staring at Tony, who now holds the broken cover of the heating system. Tiny ears. Eight years and he’s still not used to tiny ears. “-shINY TECHNOLOGY!”

“Good save.” Micah gives him a thumbs up. Swearing isn’t something unfamiliar to him, he’s basically been raised on it, but he’s always surprised when his dad tries to cover it up. In complete child-like fashion, Micah believes he’s a big kid— all grown up. Tony’s worst nightmare. 

Tony’s head thumps against the wall and he pleads directly to the random wires and switches, “Do you hate me? Why? What have I ever done to you? I pay the bills on time. I,” he holds up the cover, “I don’t usually do this and I’m sorry, but please- please, please work. Fucking Please.” 

Tilting his head back towards the bathroom, he sees Micah doing a very similar lean against the doorframe. 5:51 am and the world is kicking Tony’s ass. He sighs, “Do you want to get dressed or just bring the clothes with you to Tara’s?” 

He gives him a look as if Tony just asked an outrageous question. “Bring the clothes.” 

“Alright, okay. You go pick some shi- stuff!” Tony knocks his head gently back against the wall again, “and I’m gonna go get dressed.”

They split off into different rooms, and when they reconvene by the front door Tony’s dressed in his work suit, and finishing coffee. Micah is shoving random articles of clothing into a Star Wars themed backpack. As soon as the coffee mug clinks on the counter, Tony’s keys are jingling in his hand and he’s pushing his mini me out the door in front of him.

The cold air hits them and it’s the only motivator for them to run at this hour— to take refuge in the car. It’s not warm at first, and the seats have them both in chills, but eventually neither of them want to leave. Especially when they get to Tara’s.

But they do. 

At the doorstep, Tony rocks his weight gently between his feet, hands steadily holding up the half asleep Micah by the small child’s shoulders. He feels the boy’s weight against his leg and his heart hurts a little more for dragging him through this early morning routine. He holds onto him a little tighter, to make sure he won’t fall, when the door gently opens in front of them. 

The headlights of the car already light up the doorway, so the small light from within the home that spills out barely has any effect but a brunette figure is wide awake in the doorway. She doesn’t look quite awake either, but far more than either Tony or Micah. 

A hushed cheer of, “good morning,” finally cuts through the air. 

From Micah there’s a small mumble but Tony’s already forgotten all courtesies. Pressured by time, he gets right to the point, picking up a small backpack to hand over. 

“He has everything, same as always. Lunch, homework-”

“-I’ve got him, Tony,” she interrupts, and he’s thankful. He calms a little. “Are you sure I can’t get you a coffee or something before you hit the road though?”

He means over a little, just to catch her whispered offering and hold Micah for just a second more. He eventually shakes his head. 

“Tara, you’re literally my savior, you and I both know I wouldn’t survive without you and you KNOW how badly i want to say yes, but I’m already running late and if I get caught in traffic I’ll never hear the end of it from my boss. I’d love to take you up on the offer some other time. Holding you to it, but-“ he looks back at the car and sighs “-text me if anything?” 

“Always do,” she assures, her hand warmly touching Tony’s on top of Micah’s shoulder. 

The boy stirs a bit, catching up with the conversation. In all truthfulness, Micah doesn’t need to know what’s being said, and he doesn’t really, given he’s half asleep. He’s been through this enough to know it’s time. 

Tony crouches, sweeping away the mess of curls to press a kiss to Micah’s forehead. The boy’s heavy and tired head falls against Tony’s shoulder and it breaks his heart. It happens every morning, and this exact moment is why Tony hates mornings. Tony rubs Micah’s shoulder lightly to wake him just enough for them to break apart. “I want you to have a good day at school, okay? I’ll see you later- be home for dinner. We can have spaghetti or pizza or anything you want, promise. Okay well, not anything, but close to anything.” 

In a hushed mumbled whine, Tony makes out what he assumes Micah to be saying, “but you just promised anything.” Luckily, rather than sit and argue on the steps about how Tony probably just accidentally agreed to ice cream, Micah gives him a, “pizza,” and it’s enough for Tony. He runs a gentle hands over the small boy’s curls again before getting back up. While he’s stretching, Tara gently takes Micah inside and wishes him luck at work with a gentle goodbye. 

His hand closes around the keys in his pocket and he goes to slide back into the warmth of the driver's seat. His fingers tap all along the steering wheel before he finally decides to pull out of the driveway. Tony knows better than to blast a playlist at sun up, waiting just till the neighborhood in the rear view. 

At 6:33 am, The Rolling Stones are blasting through his car speakers, the sun is just starting to move up in the sky, and Tony has an hour and forty six minutes of driving ahead of him. 

He’s lucky enough to not get caught in the morning traffic, but then again, not many people are driving out to the middle of nowhere. On occasion he recognizes a couple cars and a variety of people on the road with him. He can’t put any names to faces or cars, but he feels less alone. Today, the road stretches out empty. He presses on the gas just a little bit more. 

A couple minutes after 8, his phone starts ringing. He’s not far now, no more than five or six minutes out, but the words ‘BRAD DESK’ flash on his phone. He leans forward against the wheel, letting it ring until the ringing makes his skin crawl, which doesn’t take too long to happen. Tony looks out at the open road and takes the chance to accept the phone call, instantly hitting the speaker button, dropping it into one of the empty cup holders. 

“Tony!” 

“Brad!” Tony’s sure there’s much more scolding coming his way, but he doesn’t let it happen, beating the one star general to the chase. “I am on my way, be there quicker than a jackrabbit. Let’s keep this between you and me, yeah? Why worry the boss man, amiright? See you soon!” He doesn’t risk possibly swerving into the fields, instead jamming his hand in the cupholder hoping he hits the end call button in the process. 

“Tony-”

He finds it. 


	2. the promises i've made, i continue to break them

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony's morning at work is eventful, to say the least, but he comes to a quick realization before it's over, that maybe some promises can't be kept and he can't keep pretending otherwise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> once again as a warning, i barely gave this a look over so it isn't edited. sorry it took so long!

Artificial lights buzz overhead, and it’s one of those Friday’s where the Space Force base is quiet and slow. 

It’s also a day of meetings, but Tony isn’t in his. 

He fills up another cup of coffee at the self serve station in the cafeteria. There’s the occasional employee walking around or taking a very early break, but right now it’s really just him. Him, the sound of the coffee pouring, and the clack his foot makes as it taps against the floor. 

In his peripheral, a shadow creeps up beside him. He doesn’t know if shadows have warmth, but he’d like to think that they do, and even if they don’t this one does.

When Tony tilts his head to look over, Dr. Chan is right there beside him. He is bending his hands against the countertop, obviously waiting for Tony to let go of the coffee pot he’s been holding onto forever. 

“Hey- uh- cool tie,” Dr. Chan laughs out. It’s not meant to be a mean comment at all, he’s just surprised. “Didn’t think you were a whale guy...”

“Whale,” pun awfully intended, “you’ve fuckin’ grossly misunderstood me then, Chan. I know everything there is to fucking know about whales.” When Tony’s boasting is met only with confusion, he explains, “3rd grade book report.” 

Chan figures Tony isn’t talking about his own third grade book report and then it all clicks. 

“Micah, right?”

“Yeah, there was a whole whale phase. He got me the tie for Hanukkah, but I think he’s starting to finally move on,” Tony finally puts down the coffee pot, sliding it towards Chan. “Fucking terrified what comes next.” 

“Dating,” Chan teases, finally pouring coffee into the empty cup he’s been holding onto. 

Tony swings around to look at him. His own coffee cup on the table is slapped off the table by his arm, but it’s obvious that’s not the reason Tony looks so dead serious. 

“That’s not even fucking funny.” 

And yet, Chan’s stifling a laugh. The look on Tony’s face is beyond funny. “You should probably start having the talk about the uh- the birds and the bees.” 

“The birds and the bees- jesus fucking christ.”

Chan drinks his coffee like he’s done absolutely nothing wrong, and Tony can’t stop waving wild gestures trying to get rid of the thought. He’s not ready for that talk. He’s not ready for Micah to grow up. 

“You know, you’re probably gonna have to clean that up.” Chan continues to laugh to himself, until he looks back at Tony, who looks ready to collapse. He doesn’t think anything of it to be honest, at least not then, but he does settle himself down. He figures, Tony’s just tired. 

He puts his own cup down, hands radiating with warmth still, as he reaches past Tony’s arm to pick up an empty coffee cup. The coffee pot has just enough for him to fill this new cup. He knows Tony doesn’t take much actual coffee anyway. Instead, Chan focuses on lining up all the sugar packets carefully. It’s an instant satisfaction when he can open all six of them at the same time to dump into the coffee. 

Beside him, Tony’s making a fuss, battling with the napkin dispenser as he attempts to pull out whole handfuls for the spilled coffee. 

Chan’s hand hovers as he watches it unfold— watches Tony unfold. He’s not sure how to intervene, and when his “Tony” gets no reaction its clear Tony is beyond auditory reach.

His whole body tenses, but then his hand finds a resting place. On Tony’s hand. Chan’s shoulders drop and it’s okay. He feels okay. 

Tony lets go of the napkins, staring over at Chan. He doesn’t know how it’s possible, but he feels like an even bigger idiot than the whole of Space Force makes him out be Monday through Friday. All he’s missing, he thinks, is the name tag that says, “HI MY NAME IS IDIOT.”

“Take this.” Chan quickly reels his hand back to pick up the concoction he’s created with a 1/4 cup of coffee, six packets of sugar, and loads of creamer— Tony’s perfect drink. He’s known the insane recipe for months now, having watched Tony pour one sugar packet a time every other day when they casually bumped into one another here before. But he’s never actually made it. He realizes how disgusting it is now, looking at it ingredient by ingredient. He thinks he could probably hand Tony a cup of milk, next time, and he wouldn’t even know it. 

Tony’s a little stunned. He just stares into the cup, as if the universe’s fate is written in it. But it’s not. It’s just a cup with way too much creamer and not enough coffee. He wouldn’t have it any other way though. 

“You know, DR. Chan,” Tony all but screams the doctor title, “16 fucking billion paper cups are used for coffee every single year, which leads to like fucking billions of gallons of water going to waste.” He takes a sip of his coffee. It’s just right. “For a scientist, you should really fucking consider cutting down your disposable cup count. Think about the whales.”

“Well that cup was for you...” Chan points out, “Yours is the one on the floor over there so really... you’re the one hurting the whales... what would Micah think?” His head tilts up at him. 

“Wow. As if that isn’t your fucking fault!” Tony stops himself from swinging his arms, more than aware now how hypocritical it’d be in this banter. 

“Also as a ‘scientist’” Chan mocks, “I actually did know that. Basic earth conservation fact.” 

Tony bends down awkwardly, at the side, to place his elbow on the counter, and rest his head on top of his hand. He could stand here and jokingly argue about whales with Chan for the rest of the day. “So you’re fucking consciously hurting whales then? You’re an evil man.” 

“Oh, thank you.” But they can’t stay and argue for the rest of the day, not without the risk of getting fired. Chan starts to turn to walk away. “I’m gonna go take over the world now.”

“Fuck you.”

Chan replies with a nod on his way out. Angela isn’t far, obviously having slowed down her walk to let him catch up. 

Tony knows all about her, it’s his job to know. He’s vetted her several times, social media wise that is. But, file and twitter feed reads doesn’t really mean anything when it boils down to it. To say they tolerate each other would be a stretch. Tony and Angela’s relationship is just a casualty of employment. He thinks she’s intimidating and serious, and she thinks he’s annoying and immature. 

Angela leans back to catch one last glimpse at the cafeteria before her and Chan pass it completely, “Hey, was that Tony you were just talking to?”

“Yeah, dude’s obsessed with fucking whales,” he remarks, eyes focused back on the coffee that swirls in his cup. He doesn’t register the randomness of the revelation, nor does he care to explain something that can be just a thing between Tony and him.

“Wait. What?” She stops in her tracks to question him, but he continues walking, and instead she has to settle for a light jog to catch up. Either he’s got places to be today, or lots on his mind.

“Did he seem okay to you?” 

Judging by the question, Angela guesses it’s probably the latter. “I don’t know. I don’t really pay attention to Tony,” she shrugs, “How can you even tell? He seems like his... usual self.” She does a small gesture with both arms jogging Chan’s memory of Tony’s typical frenzy behaviour. “Plus that’s the second time I’ve seen him getting coffee this morning.”

“So...” Chan doesn’t see how that would change things, especially with Tony’s minimum amount of coffee per cup. 

But Angela doesn’t know Tony’s orders like he does. “So... extra caffeinated Tony.”

“Extra caffeinated Tony,” he repeats. “Yeah, guess you’re right.”

After that, the conversation dwindles temporarily, but is seamlessly picked up again with the topic of each other’s weekend plans. Angela has a date with a friend of a friend from flight school. They work for the state department, apparently. While she rambles on and on with the million assumptions she has about the mysterious “Sam,” Chan can tell she’s nervous. Unlike Angela, Chan isn’t planning to leave his house much at all, with the exception of a quick grocery run.

  
  


General Naird stands in his office, palms pressed against the desk before Mallory, who’s checking his watch for the fourth time, and Brad who’s tapping his pencil against a notepad. The conversation has obviously come to a stand still, with Naird thinking over something Mallory brought up. 

Mallory coughs, straightening his posture, “Are you done ‘thinking’?”

Naird looks up. “Where’s Fuck Tony?” He takes a look around each part of the office, thinking he must’ve just missed him, but to his disappointment there’s no Tony in the room. 

“Fuck Tony? That’s what you’ve spent,” he checks his watch again, “almost five minutes thinking about?”

“Yes, it is Adrian. Brad, isn’t he supposed to be in this meeting?”

Brad stares at the general, then around the room. “Uhh, let me check, sir.” In front of him are just notes, but he shuffles through the other papers in his arms until he finds the schedule for the day. “Uh,” he begins, scanning for Tony’s name till he spots it, “yes it appears he is listed right here in schedule.”

Naird simply motions towards the large empty office space, clearly annoyed, as if he wasn’t the one who started the meeting without waiting for Tony or checking to see if he was actually there. “Has anybody seen Fuck Tony?”

“Hello brilliant people!” Tony’s voice shows up before he does, squeezing past Duncan who to no avail continued to try and tell Tony that they were already in the meeting. By the miracle of timing, and confidence, Tony shows up, all charisma. He’s met with unamused, almost blank expressions. 

“You’re late,” Naird points out. 

“Yeah, I know. I know,” Tony puts his hand on the back of his empty seat and starts shaking his head, “But I was in this DREADFUL meeting just before this one with some fucking nutjob,” he motions with his hand a ‘crazy’ by the right side of his head, “from budgeting, and he just went on and on and on and on and-“

“Tony, I don’t fucking care,” Naird cuts him off. “If the meeting starts at 10:30, you’re here at 10:30. Is that understood?”

“Crystal clear commander!” He mocks a salute, taking his seat. He leans forward, “Hey guys!” waving towards Mallory and Brad. Mallory sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. Brad just shakes his head. 

“General, Tony. It’s General.”

“Yeah well- it didn’t work with the whole-”

“Just shut up.”

“You got it!” Tony gives Naird a double thumbs up and then sits back in his seat. He pulls his phone out of his pocket and searches through his emails for whatever this meeting is about. 

The meeting drags on for probably half an hour more, and Tony really doesn’t do much other than come up with drafts for social media announcements. Every once in a while he speaks up only to tell Naird that he will have to do a press conference for something big he wants to do. Every time Naird assures him he’s a natural. Mallory and Naird do most of the talking for the rest of the time. Brad mostly is there to make sure it all goes on the schedule. 

Mallory doesn’t wait for anything Naird has to say, before he stands. “Are we done here?”

“I have nothing more to add.” Naird confirms, slowly rising from his seat. “Meeting dismissed everyone.” Tony moves to fix his blazer and starts to go, but Naird continues, “Tony, you stay,” and he sits back down. Mallory has already taken his chance to disappear. 

Brad follows suit in getting out of his seat, leaning over Tony on his way out. “Hope your coffee fiasco was worth it.” Tony turns his head towards him. He doesn’t make eye contact, just a simple head turn, but Brad’s used to it. “That’s right, I heard. Eyes and ears everywhere.” He gives him an I’ve-got-my-eyes-on-you hand sign and Tony nearly tips over the side of his seat. 

“Brad, one day- One day I swear to fucking god-“ 

“I have snapped pencils with thicker skin than you,” he threatens, waving one of his pencils toward Tony.

“Pencils don’t have fucking skin, you fucking weirdo.”

But before Brad or Tony can go on, the general calls his name again. The door closes behind Brad. It’s just the two of them now.

“Yesssirr! Listening!” Tony assures, turning back to face him.

Despite however soundproof a military base office might seem, nothing can really mute the volume with which Naird is yelling. Five minutes pass before Tony lightly shuts the door on his way out, an extra caution he doesn’t usually take. 

He walks out the office quietly, his feet getting in the way of each other as Brad eyes him quietly leaving the area. It’s a long and torturous walk till Tony has cleared the stairs, and made it out the double doors for some fresh air. 

His head feels like it’s spinning, and he’s not sure why he feels sick. It could be the fact he’s’ only consumed coffee today. It could be the fact he is in serious jeopardy of losing his job. It’s probably both, but he doesn’t have the stability to give either reason any thought. 

Instead, he rounds a corner till he’s somewhat alone. His head meets the wall behind him and he takes this hiding moment to breathe. There’s plenty of people who walk past, but he’s safe just out of everyone’s eyesight as they move quickly along. 

It’s easy for him to put on an optimistic and oblivious mask sometimes, pretend like this stuff doesn’t get to him. But it is today. It’s one of those rare days that he appreciates having an office everybody forgets about that he can hideaway in. 

It’s not a far walk, just a random room on the first floor somewhere in the assortment of brown and beige buildings. His office looks like all the other rooms and spaces on the base, barren and bland. There’s of course the assortment of files, origami animals, and pinned up photos, but it’s really nothing special. Tony hates being in it, he hates spending time feeling confined to the tiny small space. 

But now, he takes a seat on the stiff spinny gray office chair and realizes he’s probably going to be there for a while. The odds of Naird letting him take off even an hour early are slim, and he figures he shouldn’t bother asking. His job is knowing people, knowing what they like, what they love, and what they hate. Tony knows Naird, and he knows he would like for Tony to be on time, love to have him fired, and hate to be bothered for permission to get out of work early. 

His foot pushes against the floor as he spins little circles on the seat. The promise he made Micah was basically nothing more than some words spoken at an early hour. The feeling creeped up in Tony that this was just becoming a pattern. He didn’t want that, he didn’t want Micah to lose faith in their promises, but today it just seemed that’s the way it would have to be. 

Slipping his phone out of his pocket, he scrolled through the list of contacts in his favorite section until he found one of the babysitters’ contacts. He took a deep breath before his thumb jammed the call button.

After four dial tones, a “Hello!” chirped out. He put on his optimism just for this little bit.

“Heyyyy Maddie! It’s Tony Scarapiducci.” Maddie surely had his number saved, but it was a force of habit for him to introduce himself.

“Hi, Tony!” They greet him in reply, confused by the call. Tony usually calls, he is a call-everyone-before-texting kind of person, but it’s nonetheless surprising. 

“So I know I said last night that I didn’t need a sitter for tonight and I know this is fuckin’ as last minute as it gets, but-“

“But you need a sitter for tonight,” they finish his point for him. This isn’t the first time he’s called them with the request, especially since they started babysitting on Tony’s busiest workdays.

“Something came up at work-” he stops himself from the tangent he’s about to go on, realizing they’ve already figured it out. “And- yeah. Yeah I need a sitter for tonight.” 

To call the moment here a  _ moment _ would be wrong. It’s not really a wait before they respond, but for Tony even the seconds make him dizzy. What if they’re busy? What if they can’t? What if he has to call the other babysitter, Greer, but Greer can’t do it either?

But he doesn’t have to worry. “I can do that,” they assure.

“You can?” He asks, joy surely beaming through the phone line. 

“Yeah, it’s no problem.”

“Oh thank fucking god.” He stands out of the chair, pacing only a few steps before he resigns to sitting again by the small space his office offers. “You’re- you’re a fucking gem, Maddie.”

“I’ll pick him up from school and text you then.”

“Thank you. No, seriously, listen to me, thank you. Thank you, Maddie.”

“It’s really no problem. I love hanging with Micah and I love raiding your snacks.” On the other end of the phone call, Maddie laughs a little.

“Take any snack you fucking want.” Tony makes a mental note to buy cheez-its. “I owe it to you.” 

A slight silence hangs as he starts to feel uneasy. He feels guilty. He hums before a, “Hey, tell Micah he can have anything he wants for dinner, okay? And that I’m sorry! Please tell him I’m really sorry.”

“Will do. Bye, Tony.” 

“You’re the fucking besssst!” Tony screeches into the phone before the call drops. When his screen fades to black, the joy fades and he slides the phone onto the table in front of him, slumping over in the chair. Alone in his office, he sits, palm on his forehead as he lightly pulls at his own hair. 


End file.
